


Newer Songs

by FifteenDozenTimes



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, Young Veins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/FifteenDozenTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tom and Ryan's absentmindedness leave Jon with three unexpected houseguests for God-only-knows how long, all sorts of issues come to the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Newer Songs

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [witheveryspark]() for the 2011 [bandomstuffsit](http://bandomstuffsit.livejournal.com/) exchange. Much thanks to epershand & verbosewordsmith for cheerleading (and all credit to epershand for coming up with Jon's ridiculous "song").

Tom and Ryan have been at his place for roughly an hour - an hour Jon spent trying really hard not to tell them shit they already know, like if you decide coffee or stupid clothes or whatever is more important than rent for six full months then no, the landlord who finally evicts you isn't just being a dick, an hour they spent acting like this is the most normal thing in the world, like they're just crashing at Jon's for the hell of it, like it isn't below freezing outside and they would have been in deep shit if he hadn't been around to come pick them up - before Jon considers murdering Ryan.

He can usually go a lot longer, especially since he and Ryan have theoretically worked out their shit and are totally cool about stuff like Ryan disappearing for a couple months and reappearing in Tom's apartment because apparently they're a thing now, but Spencer Smith is standing at his door with an overnight bag and his time-to-rescue-Ryan face on, and he's not sure any jury would convict him.

Probably strangling Tom's idiot boyfriend would upset Tom, though, and Jon tries not to do that, so he shoves his hands in his pockets instead of around Ryan's stupid neck.

"I probably should have known," Spencer says, and Jon doesn't think he ever knew Spencer as well as he thought he did, but he kind of sounds like if he weren't holding his phone and his bag he'd be doing some strangling of his own. Someday Jon will figure out why he and Spencer can't manage to get along when they're on the same page so much of the time.

"Probably," Jon says; Spencer broke the years-long silence between them first, so Jon can talk all he wants. He has surprisingly little to say, so he just steps aside and tells Spencer, "you can come in if you want."

Spencer does, even though Jon is half-expecting him to turn right around and catch a cab back to the airport. He pushes past Jon, grabs Ryan's wrist and pulls him down the hall.

"You complete _dick_ ," he says just loudly enough for Jon to hear before the door to the spare bedroom slams shut. Tom's smirking at Jon from the couch; Jon should have let them both freeze to death on the curb.

He jams with Tom for a little while, but he's uncomfortably aware of whatever's happening down the hall, and when he gets to the point he's considering texting Brendon just because he knows if Brendon knows Jon has both Spencer and Ryan he'll get weird about it, he drops his shit and escapes to Letizia's with his computer. He's not really that dude anymore, and he doesn't like the reminder that he ever was.

Ryan's in the kitchen when Jon gets back from drinking too much coffee then following Sean to hang out in Max's basement for a while, making a giant sandwich he'll eat half of, at most.

"I asked Spencer to stay for a few days," he says, not looking at Jon, "to help look for a new place. He's really good with that shit."

Jon could point out that he spent most of the night talking to Sean and Looch about how they need a third roommate, how much they want Tom to move back in, or that Ryan has his own place that he was perfectly content with when Jon wanted him to come to Chicago to work out Young Veins stuff, or that this isn't Ryan's house to offer space in. But he just says, "yeah, okay," and goes to bed.

*

Jon's kitchen is a little too small at the best of times; with Spencer and all the shit between them also trying to make lunch (a situation Jon had spent an extra couple hours holed up in his room to avoid), it's almost unbearably overcrowded.

"If I'd thought about it at all, I probably could've guessed that you wouldn't've just not come through for Tom. And Ryan, I guess, but I don't know what your deal with him is right now."

No one knows what Jon and Ryan's deal is right now. Jon and Ryan don't know what their deal is (Jon's pretty sure Ryan thinks everything's cool. Ryan has always, always been worse than anyone else at reading Jon's specific brand of being shitty at feelings and stuff). Jon just grunts and shrugs.

"So, I mean, you've probably got things under control, and I know Ryan didn't ask you before he asked me to stay, so, like, if you want me gone, I can be out of here in half an hour."

Jon doesn't need to keep a running total in his head of the friendships he's fucked up (or the friendships he's been _blamed_ for fucking up, which on his better days he can admit are pretty much the same thing) because people don't let him forget. He's kind of trying not to do that anymore, not to decide if people think he's a dick it's their own problem, which is mostly why he can't figure out what's up with him and Ryan right now. Kicking Spencer out would be actively being a dick to both Ryan and Spencer, and even if he was okay being that kind of dick it would mess up his whole trying-not-to-ruin-things-with-Ryan project.

"No," Jon says, "it's cool. Well, not - it's fine. I don't think my couch is that comfy, though."

"I've slept on worse," Spencer says, and just like that Jon has a third indefinite house guest. Maybe he should go sleep in Max's basement for the duration.

*

"I just think you should admit you have a problem with it," Tom says, smoke drifting out of his mouth around the words. "Isn't that part of your new and improved not an asshole plan, talking about shit?"

"Yeah," Jon says, "but I don't have a problem with it. You guys are a match made in doomed-to-die-young-as-a-result-of-your-own-incompetence heaven."

"Ouch." The word falls flat, a weird mix of _it's funny because it's true, asshole_ and _I'm on to you, Walker_. Tom's always on to him, it's kind of annoying.

"It's weird. Not weird like I have a problem with it, whatever, I don't care, but weird like - he didn't talk to me for six months, and then I found out he was living with you for two of them? And, like, that you didn't tell me."

"He asked me not to," Tom says. "And it wasn't, like, a thing when he asked, so it just wasn't worth getting you all weird."

"Him moving in wasn't a thing?"

"No, it was. Just a surprise thing. And then it was just - you're so _weird_ about them, it's just way easier to keep myself out of your Panic issues."

There's no way to explain to Tom that he's on such a higher plane of friend there's no way Jon's issues with anyone else can get in the way, especially if they haven't by now, without sounding cheesy as fuck, so he lets it go. Tom knows anyway, probably.

"I think you're gonna get stuck with my Panic issues a lot, dude, since it's your fault two of them are living with me right now."

Tom shrugs. "You could kick them out anytime," he says, and Jon doesn't know how to say _yeah, but I don't want to_ or, even worse, _yeah, but I missed this, I even kind of want to invite Brendon up_ , so he just goes back into the bar and leaves Tom to finish his cigarette alone.

*

"I keep half-expecting some kind of groveling apology, like some list of excuses for you being such a total cock, because you know how shitty it was and you're all eaten up with guilt and you need me to forgive you."

Jon doesn't have any idea where to start with that. Spencer's always been really bad - good, that's a good quality, more often than not - about just saying shit, but he also always tended to pull his punches with Jon for reasons Jon hasn't really bothered to try and figure out. He could point out that if he wanted forgiveness, he'd text Brendon like he has a handful of time since his inner asshole took over, and Brendon would say, "it's cool, we're fine," like he has every other time. Spencer's not really stupid enough to believe that, though.

"And I can't tell," Spencer says, while Jon's still trying to formulate a response, "if I'm the dick for expecting it, or you're the dick for not doing it yet."

"I'm gonna take the dog for a walk." Spencer doesn't seem surprised by Jon's quick escape, but he doesn't look smug about it, either, so at least he probably wasn’t just trying to force Jon away. Pretending to be frank just to make the atmosphere so uncomfortable someone has to run away is probably one of those things that falls under what Tom calls Jon-Walkering, anyway, so it's probably not fair to assume it's something Spencer would do.

*

Jon leaves Tom in the kitchen nodding at the landlord's list of different ways to organize pots and pans in the cupboards like he's the kind of guy who even owns a pot or pan. Jon knows how they'll sort their shit once they move in, because Jon's going to sort it for them and since he's the only one who'll ever cook in this kitchen he'll sort it the way he likes it.

Ryan's standing in the living room with this look on his face Jon wasn't familiar with before they started looking, but is pretty used to now, the face he makes when something's perfect but because he's Ryan Ross he doesn't want perfect so he has to come up with a complaint. Maybe Jon should go check out the bedroom with Spencer, except that'll just end in another conversation that isn't-but-is an argument about whether Jon knows Ryan better than Spencer does.

"It's way too bright in here," Ryan says, before Jon can think of another reason to escape.

"It's noon," Jon points out. "This is the only time you'll ever be out of bed by noon."

"Maybe."

"Besides, bright is good for taking pictures."

"I guess," Ryan says, but he keeps frowning at the big beautiful window they could pretty easily buy blackout drapes for. Jon's not gonna argue, though; if Tom wants this place, he can deal with Ryan himself.

"You're still mad at me, huh?" Ryan asks.

"I guess," Jon says, even though that probably counts as an asshole move since _yeah, obviously_ is the real answer. "I'm trying not to be a dick about it."

"Huh," Ryan says. "The whole silently avoiding me except for when you're being awkward at me thing is kind of more annoying."

Ryan's never really been on the wrong side of Jon when he gets dickish, though, so what the fuck does he know. "Cool," Jon says, "good to know."

*

When Jon bought his house, something he mostly did because he suddenly had way more money than he was used to and wasn't eating away at the way the others were, he'd loved it. Right now, with Tom and Ryan's moans drifting through the (apparently very thin) wall between the two bedrooms, he kind of hates it.

Spencer's awake in the living room when Jon gives up on sleep and wanders down the hall, lounging on the couch the way he does where it kind of looks like there's nothing really holding his limbs together, like he might relax _apart_ any minute. It's kind of a good look for him.

"They're so quiet the rest of the time," Jon says; Spencer snorts but doesn't look away from his phone. "Is that Brendon?"

"Yeah," Spencer says, and doesn't call Jon an asshole for assuming Brendon's his only friend, or whatever. "We're trying to plan writing time for when I go home."

"Does he, uh, does he know this is where you are?"

Spencer blinks. "Uh, yeah?"

"I just - he gets weird, right? About being left out. So."

"It's kind of funny how you pick now to care about Brendon's feelings." Spencer doesn't sound like he finds it funny, Spencer sounds the closest to outright pissed off he's been since the half hour he spent yelling at Ryan when he first showed up.

"I always," Jon starts, but there's no way to finish it that doesn't end in a fight, and Jon's _trying_. "Okay, whatever, that's fair. Sorry."

"Huh," Spencer says, "that's new."

"Apologizing?"

"Without sounding like you're actually trying to insult me, yeah."

Jon can't tell if Spencer's trying to bait him, either into a fight or into apologizing more, so he doesn't say anything, just shrugs and tilts his head against the back of the chair. He's tired enough he should go back to bed, but the rhythmic clicking of Spencer typing on tiny keys is way better to listen to than Ryan's weird sex noises.

*

What Tom says is, "I'm dragging Spencer to hang out with the guys, if Looch has someone to be a drum nerd with he won't do anything stupid. Probably." What Jon hears is _okay, we're all up in your space and I saw how murderous you looked when you kept bumping into people in the kitchen, so I'll get you some alone time_. Tom is a good dude, maybe Jon should do something nice for him, like not perfecting an impression of his weird growly I'm-coming noise to whip out at the most embarrassing possible moment.

Ryan doesn't go with them, but he's sleeping, so Jon ignores the technicality and hums cheerfully to himself while he digs out a couple guitars and notebooks to take advantage of the alone time with.

Jon shouldn't have ignored the technicality; Jon should have remembered the way the world works, the way his life works, that everything always happens at the worst time. Because Ryan doesn't wake up and walk in when Jon's singing nonsense about Marley or the cats or how much he hates when people drink all his orange juice, Ryan apparently walks in when Jon's thinking about how when he'd been jerking off in the shower that morning his thoughts had drifted to Spencer and how he looks sprawled on Jon's couch, how it feels to kiss another dude with a beard, how good the sex would be if they fucked without working out any of the tense shit between them.

"That was awful on like twenty levels," Ryan says, and Jon can't really argue, since he did kind of just use the phrase "grumpy dream come true ooh-ooh" (whatever, it rhymed with "shouldn't want to fuck you, but I do," and it's not like he's really writing, here). He kind of feels like he should defend himself on principle, though, but Ryan doesn't give him the chance.

"I kind of never got why you and Brendon always clicked so well? But man, I look forward to the shitty Broadway show you two write when you get old enough to forget how dumb singing about your feeling is."

"Yeah," Jon says, "Brendon and I work so well together."

Ryan shrugs and sits on the bed, folding himself up that way he does that makes him look like some weirdo insect in the process. Actually, there's a lot Ryan does that makes him look like a weirdo insect.

"Is there something you need to tell me?" Ryan asks.

"Uh, no?"

"Because you kind of wrote an album about me. And now you're singing about fucking me. And, like, I'm not big on talking about stuff, but you kind of seem like you need to get some shit out."

"I didn't write an album about you." Jon didn't; it's not his fault that what was on his mind when he'd screwed up another band and Ryan wasn't talking to him was Ryan and the band. Mostly Ryan. "Also, what?"

"What, what?"

"I wasn't - dude, I'm not singing about fucking you."

"Wasn't - what's the 'fighting over your best friend' thing about if it's not Tom?"

"We're not fighting over Tom, what the fuck?"

Ryan frowns. "Well, I didn't think so, but I can't ever tell with you when we're fighting and when you're being weird because of other stuff and when you're not trying to be weird at all. I have to guess. So if it's not Tom, who could it even - oh." Ryan's eyes get big. Jon hates his _I just figured you out_ face, because it's usually right. "Oh. Man you are _bad_ at this shit, huh?"

"Fuck off," Jon says. Ryan, because when he wants to be he's a decent friend, does.

*

A shadow falls over Jon's face while he's too busy being thankful Tom and Ryan aren't keeping him awake to sleep; when he turns to look, Spencer's standing in the doorway, blocking the dim light from the hall.

"If I sleep on that shitty couch one more night," he says, "my spine is going to climb out of my body in protest, and then where the fuck would I be?"

"Heh," Jon says, "spineless." He thinks about adding _douchebag_ , but he's not sure Spencer would see the humor in turning his favorite post-Panic insult for Jon against him.

"Hilarious. Shove over." When Jon doesn't move, Spencer rolls his eyes, barely visible in the shadows on his face. "It's not like we've never shared a bed before, dude, move over."

It's a fair point, and since Jon can hardly say _I'm a little worried about what Ryan might have texted you earlier today, so I'm pretty sure this is all some kind of weird rom-com setup thing_ , he makes room.

He's almost asleep, at least asleep enough to ignore how four hours ago he was thinking about riding the dude he's sharing his bed with, when Tom and Ryan start up. Of course they do.

"Jesus," Spencer says, muffled a little in the pillow. "I get why you keep escaping to the living room. Are you sure that's not your cats?"

"Not as sure as I'd like to be," Jon says, and Spencer snorts a laugh.

It takes fucking forever for the porn soundtrack to die down; by the end of it, Jon's getting hard, but he's pretending he isn't because either he's hard from listening to guys that are like his brothers fuck or from something as pathetic as sleeping in the same bed with someone he wouldn't mind making his own porn soundtrack with and neither one of those are really okay.

"Are you," Spencer starts, then, "that was - fuck it. Hit me, if you need to."

Jon's about to ask why the fuck he'd need to when Spencer's all of a sudden in his space, hand snaking down towards the most awkward boner of all time and lips pressing against Jon's. _Oh_ , Jon thinks, and _fuck it_.

*

Jon sleeps in that morning, which means he wakes up at his normal time but he can hear Spencer out in the kitchen so he stays in bed for longer than is probably reasonable. Eventually, though, the cats and Marley hear a can opening and abandon him, and his bladder starts complaining too loudly to ignore, and also it would be nice to pretend he's being an adult about this.

"I'm just feeding Marley like I feed my dogs," Spencer says, when Jon makes it to the kitchen. "And I don't know shit about cats, so, y'know, sorry if I fuck them up forever."

"Uh, usually just dry food for breakfast. It's cool, they'll whine for a couple days and then forget you spoiled them."

Spencer just nods, and silence settles in around them, so thick and heavy it feels like it's muffling the cat's cries and the way Marley keeps whacking his wagging tail against the cabinet doors.

"So I - " Jon says, just for something to say.

"So, Tom and Ryan are," Spencer says at the same time. "Uh, sorry. You go first."

"No, I didn't - " _have any idea what I was going to say_ , "Tom and Ryan what?"

"Think they settled on a place, the one with the tiny bedroom and the walk-in closet. So I'll probably catch a flight out of here tonight or tomorrow."

Of course they did; that was the one place Jon and Spencer agreed was awful, too small and too crappy and in an awful part of the city. Wait.

"You don't - already?"

"Uh," Spencer says, while he rinses out the empty cat and dog food cans. "Yeah? I mean, they found something, and I'm not going to talk them out of it, and shit's getting weird, so."

"It's not - okay, yeah, it's weird, but not, like - _awful_ weird."

Spencer turns off the water and sighs. "If you're asking me to stay, dude, you have to actually ask. Use your words, and shit."

"Okay," Jon says, and he can feel his past self, the one who got so fucking angry about Spencer on his doorstep two weeks ago, laughing at him. "If it wouldn't fuck up your schedule, or whatever, I'd like it if you stayed. We can, like, talk. And stuff."

"And stuff," Spencer says, mocking, but he's smiling, and apparently it's just that easy.


End file.
